To Love a Dichotomous Man
by Moonlit Tiger Lily
Summary: What does one do when the woman you love cares only for your alterego? What can be done to make her see you when you’re not wearing a cape? How can there be a happy family when she doesn’t see you unless you wear a costume?
1. Chapter 1

Summary: What does one do when the woman you love cares only for your alter-ego? What can be done to make her see you when you're not wearing a cape? How can there be a happy family when she doesn't see you unless you wear a costume? Dichotomy is confusing enough without adding romance to the mixture.

To Love a Dichotomous Man

Chapter One

"Will we see you...around?" She smiled slightly, the memory of tears sparkling in her eyes. The cigarettes in her hand long forgotten, she looked up at him. Minutes ago she had thought him gone forever and now he hovered before her, as healthy as he had ever looked. The moonlight shone blue on his dark hair, but he was too far away for her to see his eyes.

There was sadness there and he did not try to hide it. "Good night, Lois."

She stared after him a moment, willing him to come back. He would if she called to him; there was no doubt in her mind that he would return to her. Still, his coming back would mean explanations. Those were explanations she was not ready to give. Lois had been through a lot in the past few days and she wanted nothing more than to get back to her routine.

"Go back to bed, Jason," she said as her eyes fell on her son. He stood in the window, looking after his savior: his father. He stood a moment more before turning away silently.

xXxXx

Richard above the couch, arms folded, looking on the woman he had lived with for over four years. "Lois," he said quietly, shaking her arm gently. She started to consciousness, inhaling sharply, and her eyes darted about before settling on his. "Lois, come to bed."

"Richard..." Her eyes were apologetic. He could sense her hesitation, her reluctance, the distance she put between them. She hadn't been sleeping much in the past two weeks, and when she did, it certainly was not with him. There was even less affection between them now than there had been before. Richard knew she was a private woman, but he still felt her slipping away.

"Superman," he stated in a matter-of-fact manner. She averted her gaze and gritted her teeth, a habit he had long since categorized as disinclined confession. "He left you Lois. He left when you were three months pregnant with Jason."

"He didn't know I was pregnant," Lois growled, sitting up and meeting his gaze with her angry eyes.

"He didn't even say good bye," Richard said, stabbing her where it hurt most. He regretted it almost immediately. "Lois..."

"I know, all right, Richard?" She stood and wrapped her robe more tightly around her, tying the belt with jerky, frustrated movements. "I know he left. I know he is not dependable. I even know he would not be able to be there for Jason and myself nearly as much as you have been." She chuckled dishearteningly. "How could he be? There are so many people to save. Why should he have time for me?" She slumped in an armchair across the room.

He was quiet a moment before deciding to say what was on his mind. "I love you, Lois. I've loved you since I first met you. Let me be your husband. Let me be Jason's father."

"You're not his father, Richard. Not really. And you're not my husband."

xXxXx

"Clark," Martha Kent exclaimed as her adopted son stepped through the front door. She wiped her hands on her apron and removed it as she walked to him, draping it over the couch and pulling him into her arms. She was astonished, as ever, about how tall he had gotten. It seemed only days ago she had held him in her arms wondering if she was capable of raising a child at her age. "What brings you here?"

"Hi, Mom," he softly greeted her; his words were barely above a whisper. He held on to her tightly.

"Clark, dear, what's wrong?" she asked as she rubbed her hand down his back. Granted, he usually returned to the old farm when he was having a hard time of things. The last time he had been unable to save a young girl from drowning. It tore him up inside.

"It's Lois," he answered and his mother's heart missed a beat. If something had happened to that young reporter Clark would never forgive himself.

"What happened?" she asked, straightening her back and stepping away slightly. She guided him to the couch and sat him down as she went to make some tea. The golden retriever Jonathon had brought home one day shortly before his death walked over to Clark with a tattered tennis ball in his mouth. Clark reached out subconsciously to take the ball and tossed it lightly into the dining room. The dog left as Martha walked in with a tea tray.

"Here you are," she said as she placed a cup in front of him. "Now, what happened? Is she all right?"

"She's fine. It's just..." he sighed and spooned some sugar into his tea. "Lois is a mother."

"A mother. Oh, my," Martha replied, stunned. "Well, you were gone quite a while, dear. You couldn't expect her not to meet someone."

"Yes, I know," he answered, thinking of Richard. The man's friendly smile was made all the worse by the fact that he was a decent man. "Her son... I'm the father." Martha's son couldn't look at her then. He did not want to see the shock, the disappointment that filled her eyes all the times he had gone over this moment in his mind.

"You... are you sure?"

Clark looked at her then with dry amusement. He nodded and said quietly, "Of course I'm sure. He threw a piano."

The older woman chuckled in response, remembering her son lifting their old truck. She took a sip and set down the cup as the sun started to rise. "Fatherhood is scary, I'm sure. Especially when you've missed so much of it already."

"Believe me, I know, mom. I'm just... how can we live normally? I can't expose them. Lois has been targeted so many times already. How can I put my son through that?"

"You can't forsake those you love just because you are scared. If they don't want to take the risk, they will let you know. As for living normally, I'm sure you would be fine. At least, you could live as close to normally as you do now."

"But she doesn't even see me when I'm Clark. How can I expect her to love me?"

"Dear, she fell in love with you. Just because she loves part of you doesn't mean she won't love the rest. I understand that you are worried and it is unfair. Even so, she'd be getting her best friend and the man she loves rolled into one. Just pluck up and everything will be fine."

xXxXx

Clark Kent stepped out of the elevator with at least ten other people and was jostled about as he made his way to his already cluttered desk. Being Superman meant he often did not get as much work done as his fellow reporters and the piles of papers and folders strewn about were proof of that. Stress aside, spending the weekend with his mother was uplifting, but he didn't feel quite so at ease now that he was back at work. Clark had been able to help her with several chores around the house. He set his briefcase down with a sigh and sat, putting his head in his hands for a moment. He simply was not prepared to face this day.

"Clark?" Her hand reached out and touched his shoulder. He would have jumped, pretended to be surprised, but he did not have the motivation. "Are you all right?"

He lifted his head and turned to the woman, her head blurred by the fingerprints on his glasses. He removed them and began to wipe them, not hiding his face as usual. He found the he did not have the motivation lately to keep his identity a secret from her, either. He wanted so badly to tell her, but the words stuck in his throat every time he tried.

She looked at him quizzically, tilting her head to one side. Her eyes squinted slightly as she looked at him like he was someone she ran into at the grocery store and recognized though she was not sure why. "You look different with your glasses," she told him as he placed them one once more. "You should consider wearing contacts. Have you ever tried pushing back your..." She reached for the hair he kept draped over her face, but he grabbed her wrist firmly.

"Lois," he said, losing the lighthearted tone he often used in the office. His voice was deep and burdened; it sent shivers down her spine.

"Clark..." she whispered, surprised at the reaction she was having and pushing it away. She cleared her throat and pulled her hand back, becoming the more professional version of herself. "Are you all right, Clark?"

"I'll be fine, Lois."

"Girl trouble?"

"I'll say," he replied with a smirk that did not resemble his normal playfulness. "Look, I've got a lot of work..."

"Go to lunch with me?" she interrupted him, looking slightly ashamed of her forwardness. He looked at her questioningly.

"Why?"

"Can't I go to lunch with a friend?"

"You don't go to lunch. Not with me. Why not go with Richard?"

She recoiled from his words, upset by them. Her brow furrowed. "What's gotten into you, Clark? I've had a busy few days. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you sooner. But I haven't seen you in five years. Let me buy you lunch to catch up."

xXxXx

He had half expected her not to show up. He had rationalized that she was obsessed with her work; that she would go off chasing some story and promise to make it up to him later. He had anticipated a quiet lunch by himself, full of brooding and pitying stares from nearby patrons. Therefore, he was quite surprised to see her walk through the doors and toward him, her hair blowing softly about her face.

She sat beside him and ordered a glass of red wine while looking at the menu before her. "What are you having?" she asked as she gave him a smile.

"I was thinking about just a club sandwich," he replied, taking in the soft curls that draped over her like a parted curtain. She raised her eyes without moving her head and looked at him with a sigh of frustration.

"Clark, I'm taking you out to lunch. Heck, it's so late for lunch I'm having wine. Order something substantial, something expensive."

"I can pay for myself."

"I know," she replied, softening her tone at the note of irritation in his. "I just want to do something nice for you."

xXxXx

"So, tell me about your vacation." Lois twirled pasta around her fork, keeping it steady with a large spoon, and took a bite. Clark chanced a glance at her lips before turning to his own plate.

"Not much to say, really. I did a lot of thinking. I looked at the stars and the planets an awful lot. I visited the place where I was born. It wasn't really eventful. Really, I spent most of my time traveling."

"Five years is a lot of traveling to do. You must have done something exciting. Where is the reporter in you? You're supposed to be good at telling stories."

"I'm supposed to be good at reporting news that has nothing to do with myself," he corrected. Though lately, Perry White was obsessed with Superman's return and it was rare that the news didn't have something to do with the man who lived a double life. "Speaking of the news, did Perry give you a new partner after I left?"

"No," she replied, and finished chewing before she continued. "I guess he figured I could do it on my own. I'd had enough experience by then. That, and I guess he hoped that if I was on my own Superman would come to me; as if I could lure him out of hiding."

"Well, you did, didn't you? He rescued you on that plane. That was the first thing he did in five years, wasn't it?"

"Yes," she said, irritated with the direction of the conversation. She heard enough about Superman from every aspect of her life. She didn't need Clark to talk about him as well. "I suppose it was the first major rescue in a while. But that's neither here nor there. I didn't ask you out to talk about Superman."

Clark stopped eating, folded his hands and looked at her, suddenly more serious than she had ever seen him.

"What's with you lately? You've changed since you came back."

"Why did you want to take me out to lunch?"

"I wanted to catch up. I explained that to you already."

"Is that all?" he insisted.

"Yes," she growled, angry at his tone and at the insinuation that she had lied to get him on his own under false pretenses. "What else do you expect?"

"What about Richard?"

"What about him? We're not together anymore, but even if we were I don't see why it would concern you! What's gotten into you?"

He sighed and cleared his head, trying to come up with an answer that would not start an argument or a scene. Finally, he shook his head and threw caution to the wind. "I've stood by and watched you date other men. I've been by your side as your partner and your friend for years. I've not said anything about your living with Richard, but I can't stand this."

"What are you talking about?" She was fuming, not entirely sure where this was going, but mad at the statements he made, mad at his tone of voice, mad because he was in front of her and it was easy to be angry with him instead of the one who had put her in this mood.

"I love you, Lois," he said, firmly, bluntly, as if he had been saying it every day since he learned to speak. "And it's killing me to watch you, always knowing that you don't even see me the way I see you. I died inside when I thought another man had fathered your son. I wanted to scream every time I saw you kiss Richard. I can't live like this anymore, Lois."

He stood suddenly and kissed her, tilting her head back as she sat in the dining chair. Her fork clattered to the plate as it left her hand. His palms cupped her face and radiated the warmth that was so familiar to her. She sighed and parted her lips instinctively. He left her just as suddenly as he had enveloped her, and she breathed in his scent, lamenting the loss of the body heat to which she had quickly grown accustomed. "Clark," she whispered. Her mind was in a haze. It was amazing how he did this to her. Only minutes ago her mind was everywhere but now he was the only thought in her mind.

"Have dinner with me, Lois.

"I… I can't leave Jason," she stuttered, still under his spell.

"Bring him with you. We can all have dinner."

"I don't know, Clark."

"You don't have a place to stay, Lois. You can't live out of a hotel. Stay with me, I've got a spare room. Just until you can get on your feet: until you can find an apartment."

"I don't know what to say."

"Say yes." He was confident. Sure of himself. Sexual and seducing while sweet and comforting. She wanted nothing more than to say yes, but her sense of morality told her it was a bad idea. The last time she had done anything so reckless she wound up pregnant and without the father about to help support and raise the child. In the end, she decided nothing bad could happen with her son unwittingly acting as a chaperone. She agreed. It wasn't until she was halfway to the pre-school to pick up Jason, though she couldn't remember his exact wording during their lunch that she realized she had never told Clark that her son was not fathered by Richard.

xXxXx

"Mommy, are you okay?"

Lois blinked her eyes and continued to stare straight forward at the road with her hands on the wheel. She smiled at her son via the rear view mirror. "I'm fine, honey, just thinking."

"What are you thinking about?"

"Just a friend." Her tone made it clear, even to the young boy, that particular conversation was finished. There was no way she was going to talk about her current train of thought. No way she was willing to admit her thoughts lingered on her former partner Clark Kent.

Why had she never seen him in such light before? Had he always been the person she had caught a glimpse of at lunch? If he had been, why had she not seen it before? Lois had always concentrated on her work to be sure and, as much as it hurt now to admit it, she had not paid much attention to Clark in their time together. The possibility of a romantic entanglement with the clumsy, shy, somewhat dorky man seemed ludicrous and had never occurred to her. Now the famous Ms. Lane found her mind nearly completely occupied with him. She hadn't felt this way since she had first spoken to Superman on the rooftop.

Superman was a sore topic to be sure. Lois had loved him completely and been devastated when he left. She had been unable to give her heart to Richard and here she was considering involvement with Clark. But she had made no promise to either man. It seemed that Superman had no desire to be with her anyway. He had dodged her question the other night and turned his back on her. No, Superman was not going to be in her life, at least not in the way she wished he would be. That was something she was just going to have to accept.

xXxXx

Author's Note: Thanks to Midnight Lady, who prompted a small revision. Your comments made a lot of sense and I believe the story is better for it!


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I made a few small revisions in chapter one, so if you get confused, you might want to refer back. Basically all I did was add some time in here and there.

To Love a Dichotomous Man

Chapter Two

Clark sat in the shower letting the hot water roll down his skin. His brow was furrowed in self-contemplation. Why was it always difficult for him? Why couldn't Lois even see him for who he was? He would have given anything for her to love Clark Kent rather than Superman, but even he had to admit the former of the two paled in comparison. Who could love clumsy, weak and shy Clark next to Superman?

He leaned his head back and felt the soft droplets of water upon his face. She would see him, he would be sure of that. Lois would see who he was even if he had to be more himself in order to do it. Dangerous? Perhaps, but he would do it despite the promise he had made his father, despite the promise to act as he did so people would not suspect his secret identity. Superman could trust Lois. He could trust her with his heart and even with his life. Why shouldn't Clark be able to do the same?

Without even trying, his ears caught the sound of her voice as she helped her son, their son, out of the car. It wasn't unheard of for one voice to rise above the rest in his mind. When his mother had fallen down the stairs he heard her call for help above the bustle of Metropolis. When his father had been riddled with grief, Clark had been buy his side in mere moments. What did Lois have in common with his parents? That was simple enough: Clark loved them. Superman loved them. He stood, knowing it was time to get out of the shower. Lois and Jason would begin the ascent up the stairs shortly.

xXxXx

Lois climbed the last remaining flight of stairs until she reached the landing of his apartment. Jason's hand held firmly in her own, she juggled the bag of groceries about and stretched a finger toward the doorbell. With it inches from contact, the door swung open to reveal Clark. He looked taller than usual, perhaps because he was not slouching, and his hair was wet from showering. She glanced for a moment and moistened her parched lips before saying, "Clark. You surprised me. How did you know we were here?"

He tapped the side of his head lightly and smiled, "Good hearing." He took the paper bag from her arm and stood back to allow them entrance, closing the door quietly behind them. She stood in front of his coffee table, clutching Jason's hand, looking about the room with interest. It was a small apartment, much smaller than she was used to, but cozy. It was neater than normal, but still looked lived in. The apartment she had occupied before Jason had been born looked as though a tornado had gone through it.

"Make yourselves at home. I'll make dinner."

Lois paused before taking off her coat and hanging it by the door. Jason took off his as well. She reached to take it, but Clark stepped in front of her. Watching the man interact with her son, she was warmed as he lifted Jason so the boy could place the coat on the hook himself. Clark placed him back on the floor and looked at him with gleaming eyes. "Why don't you go play while I cook?"

"Where is your TV?" Jason asked lifting his head to look at Clark's eyes which stood six feet off the floor.

Clark flushed, something Lois could not remember having seen before, but did not stumble over his words as she had anticipated. "I don't have a TV," he replied, smiling at the confused look on the boy. "But I have a keyboard if you want to practice and I have a lot of books."

"I learn more about you every day, Clark Kent," Lois told him softly as Jason wandered about the apartment. "What do you do with all your free time if you don't watch TV?"

He began washing potatoes, his back to her, as she emptied the remaining contents of the bag. "I read a bit," he admitted, "but mostly I just wander about town."

"Helping people, no doubt. You must have been a boy scout."

"Being a boy scout is a good thing. You should consider letting Jason join."

Lois shook her head slowly as she dug through a drawer to find a cutting knife. "He's got asthma along with a ton of other problems. The other boys would just make fun of him."

"I think he would fit in just fine."

"Clark," she said sharply, putting the knife on the counter and turning to him. "How do you know about Jason?"

"What do you-"

"About his father. You knew Richard wasn't his father. How?"

"You told me," he answered, recalling her words as he lie in bed at the hospital unable to move or respond.

"I don't remember-"

"You did," he interrupted her this time, his voice firm. She was stunned to see such resolve coming from him.

"Then I didn't tell you who his father was. He doesn't even know."

It was Clark's turn to stop what he was doing and face her suddenly. "He doesn't think it is Richard." It was a statement, though posed as a question. A prayer more than anything else.

"No." Her words released the breath he had been holding. "He knew from the beginning Richard wasn't his father, but he still called him Daddy."

Though he had known about the title the rival man bore, it stung to hear confirmation. The last thing he thought he could stand tonight was his son loving another as a father. It was too much to tolerate. Soft, halting notes came from the other room as Jason plunked out the notes to the only song he knew. Clark had only bought the keyboard the day before, but already knew three songs. His son would inherit the powers he deserved before long. Patience was all they needed.

"I cleaned up my bedroom for you," he said softly, changing the subject from one in which his anger might cause him to reveal something he did not want.

Clark wanted, more than anything, at that moment to tell Lois that he was Superman. He wanted her to fall into his arms so the three of them could live happily. It was selfish, perhaps, to lie to her by omission, to avoid telling her who he was. Even so, he could not stomach the idea of her loving Superman and Superman alone. He wanted her to love him for who he was, not what he did. Until then, or until he could no longer stomach the secret, he would refrain from revealing it.

"Clark," she said slowly. Her tone betrayed her emotions. She was grateful for the offer, but hesitant to accept. Her heart sped up, something that was obvious to him with his superior hearing. "I don't know if we can stay here."

"You said yourself that you aren't with Richard any more. I'm just giving you a place to stay until you can get on your feet. You can take my room. I can set up a bed in there or out here for Jason. You can stay as long as you like."

"Don't you think it would be a bit... awkward?"

"Awkward?" he repeated as he finished slicing potatoes and slid them off the cutting board into a boiling pot of water. "How?"

"I mean us... living together." She held out a finger and pointed fluidly to him and then to herself.

"Why should that be awkward? It's not like we would be sharing a room." But he wanted desperately to warm her bed each night. To watch her sleep as he played with her soft curls.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I just don't know you that well. I feel like we are practically strangers."

Though it was the truth, it stung nonetheless. The truth often hurt much more than any fathomable lie. He knew her as well as any other man, to be sure. After all, Lois Lane was an enigma. A woman who kept her life private and, before her son was born, often lived for nothing other than work. She never spoke of her love life and likely never would.

Lois, on the other hand, knew very little about the man who was madly in love with her. She rarely bothered to start an in depth conversation and, often when she did so, was interrupted. It seemed to him that something else was always more important and usually it was work. Just as he would be about to open his heart to her, she would run off to cover a story no one else could cover. Granted, she was the best reporter in Metropolis, but that didn't lessen the pain of rejection.

"I'd like to think we are at least friends," Clark replied. "And what better way to get to know each other?" He could see her lips part to protest, but he spoke before she could. "I won't charge rent, I keep the house clean, I'm quiet. There is no pressure for a relationship. I'll help you take care of Jason. Lois, I know you have a great job, but you're going to have a rough time of things raising Jason on your own. Especially in the next few months."

_Stay, Lois, _he silently pleaded. _ I want to see my son. I want to live with you._

She was quiet for a few moments, her slicing growing slower. "All right," she said slowly. "You're right. I guess we can stay for a while."

xXxXx

Clark spooned more carrots onto his place and stood to put them back on the far end of the table. A laugh erupted from him, a deep bellowing laugh of surprise. He sat down roughly and continued chuckling as Lois scolded Jason, though she was smiling as well.

"Really, Lois," he said, still chuckling. "I'm not offended. Farm life is simpler than that in the city. In fact, there was this rumor that Mr. Jenkins used to feed his pigs by lifting them up to the apple tree."

"What?" Lois inquired, astonished.

"The pigs would eat off the tree directly. It was a problem at first, apparently, but they got used to being in the air after long."

"Why did he do that? Pigs aren't exactly small?"

"Who knows? He wasn't all there. Even so, it's just a rumor; I never saw him do it."

"That's silly," Jason piped up. "Why didn't he just shake the tree and get the apples down?"

"Well, someone supposedly asked him that once," Clark replied. "He didn't want to harm the tree I'm told. So then he was asked why he didn't get a ladder and take down the apples himself because it would save time."

"So he did that then?" Lois pried.

"No, he just said 'What's time to a pig,' and went about his business."

Lois and Jason stared for a moment, processing what Clark said before imagining a man holding a pig up to a tree and giggling in fits. Clark joined in with his laugh before long. All things said and done, the night was going rather well. Everyone seemed to be getting along and, even better, enjoying themselves. It warmed Clark's heart to eat dinner as a family, but the anxiety he felt at the thought it would not be a normal occurrence was terrible. He wanted, more than anything, to live as they were for the rest of their lives.

"Are you all right, Clark?" Lois asked, pulling him aside after dinner and talking in a low tone. She set down the empty serving bowl she carried on the counter and he paused in the midst of washing a plate.

"Of course, why shouldn't I be?"

"You seemed a bit out of it toward the end of dinner," she replied, prepared with her reasoning.

"I was just thinking it was nice to have someone to eat dinner with," he responded, brushing a lock of dark hair from his eyes. "I've grown accustomed to lonely nights."

"Well, with us staying here it won't be so bad."

Clark's eyes brightened, though he tried to quell his enthusiasm. "You'll be staying with me then?"

"Yes, if you'll have us."

"For as long as you wish. I've made up the bed for you in the other room."

"Thank you. I think I'll be turning in." She turned to leave the kitchen, but paused and looked over her shoulder. "Will you be up much longer?"

"I was planning on taking a walk before bed," he lied, shifting in the costume he wore beneath his street clothes. "Something I do to relax before sleep. Sleep well and don't wait up." Clark finished the dishes, listening to the rustle of clothes and sheets through the walls as Lois prepared for bed. After putting away the plates, Clark bent over Jason, who lay sleeping in the living room, kissing his forehead before stepping out the front door and locking it behind him.

xXxXx

Author's Note: Since I've got no sense of humor whatsoever, Clark's joke/story came from www,cleanjokes4u,com/clean-joke-162,html Just put in periods for commas.


	3. Chapter 3

Summary: What does one do when the woman you love cares only for your alter-ego? What can be done to make her see you when you're not wearing a cape? How can there be a happy family when she doesn't see you unless you wear a costume? Dichotomy is confusing enough without adding romance to the mixture.

To Love a Dichotomous Man

Chapter Three

Clark had long since abandoned that bed in favor of Lois using it, but the lack of his presence did not seem to change the feel of the room. The clue cotton sheet, though washed twice in the months she had been using them, still clung desperately to the scent of the man that once slept upon them. Images of vast golden fields, of flannel shirts warmed by the sun, of working happily even as the night fell flooded Lois' mind every night as she tried to sleep. Was that how Clark's childhood had been? Had he run, laughing, after a dog through rows of wheat that stood a head higher than him?

Clark was such a carefree and easy going man. He exuded confidence, something she had only begun to notice after living with him. He was rugged, but gentle; strong, but soft. How had a man such as him come to live in the noisy, busy city of Metropolis? She often found herself surprised by her recent perceptions of him and by how much they varied from the impression of him she had had in their time as partners. Indeed, she was beginning to realize she had never truly gotten to know Clark and certainly regretted it.

Lois rolled onto her side, pulling the covers over her bare shoulder, and inhaled deeply as her head sank into the pillow. Though se felt entirely too feminine doing so, she sighed with contentment. She could not have known the Clark could hear every sound she had made. His scent immersed her mind and caused her to compulsively close her eyes. She found the she had never felt safer or more at ease than when cocooned in those simple, worn cotton bed linens.

Only yesterday, as she had sat at her desk, staring at the monitor, Lois had come to a realization. Normally, her mind wandered a bit when she was having trouble putting pen to paper, so to speak. Usually, her thoughts turned to her son and the objectives she had for that particular evening. Occasionally, they would turn to her most recent tryst with Superman, or such romantic thoughts of the hero of Metropolis. However, lately her mind, or rather her _heart_, seemed less occupied by the man that had fathered her son. The most recent development was the fixation of her thoughts on the man who was helping to provide for her and her son.

Having Clark to share responsibilities was a blessing indeed. He paid his portion of rent, utilities and whatnot, cooked even more often than did Lois, and with much more skill, and was more a father to Jason than Superman or Richard had ever been.

However, these emotions that had crept up within startled Lois. Living with Clark had been an arrangement of necessity, but, as time went on, Lois was becoming more accustomed to the presence of this man. In truth, _accustomed_ was not so accurate a word as_ dependent._

Her mind turned to him more often than she could have anticipated and the thought she has were bringing her closer every day to reaching a startling conclusion. Lois believed she was falling in love with Clark. Heavens, she was falling for goofy, clumsy, quiet, and insecure Clark, but while he was all these things in public he was someone entirely different in his own home, though he was still a bit goofy. Perhaps he was not so nervous and, therefore, unafraid to be his own self.

Lois chuckled a bit, rolling onto her stomach and attempting to find a position that would bring sleep. "You can take the boy out of the country…" she mumbled into the pillow before lifting her head and pulling out the clump of hair she had taken into her mouth with her words. Again she sighed, though it was in frustration this time. Flipping onto her back, she folded down the covers and stood, donning a robe. The dark green terrycloth clashed terribly with her yellow sleeveless pajamas, but she didn't notice.

Trying to organize her disheveled hair, Lois widened the crack in the door and stepped into the living room, stopping abruptly when she realized Clark was still awake. He sat in an armchair by the window, a book in hand, though not a light was on. His eyes drifted up to hers slowly, as his attention became distracted from the book. She shivered slightly and drew the rove about her, wondering if Clark had taken in her frame or merely skipped straight from the book to her face. Dangerously, she hoped it was the former.

"Are you reading?" she questioned, stunned. "Why aren't any lights on? You're going to ruin your eyes."

He smiled at the tone in her voice, more concerned and motherly than it had been before he had left, before she had born his child. "I didn't want to disturb Jason," he replied, closing the roughly covered book quietly. He wore flannel pants and a t-shirt that stretched slightly over the torso and biceps as most clothing did for him. She had discovered Clark bought his shirts too large for him when he intended to wear them to the office. His voice grew husky as he lowered it to a whisper to avoid waking the child. "Are you all right? You've been tossing and turning all night."

Though it struck her as strange that he knew that, Lois did not comment. Clark, she had determined, tended to know things he could not. "I'm fine," she replied. "I just can't get to sleep."

"Can I get you something?" asked Clark, smiling slightly in the dark. He could hear the changes of her pulse and could guess at what had caused them. "Something to eat of drink?"

"I just got up to get a glass of water," she told him as she turned and took a step toward the kitchen.

"I'll get it for you." He was up, the book left in his chair, and in the kitchen before she could argue, leaving her to take a seat on the couch. Doing so, she sat on her legs to keep her feet warm. He entered the room after a moment with two cups. "How about some tea instead?"

"That sounds much better." Lois took the proffered cup and held it in both hands, letting the warmth soak into her cold skin. She took a sip, pausing when Clark sat next to her so it would not spill.

They sat in silence a moment, drinking their tea or blowing on it to cool the liquid faster. "So," he enquired, breaking the quiet. "What has you up so late?"

"I…" she stalled, but figured there was no point in hiding things any longer. "I was thinking about someone."

He did not reply immediately, but rather looked forward. When he did ask, his tone was somewhat pained. "Superman?"

Lois, caught unaware, merely took in his expression. It seemed he had feelings for her, and this was encouraging. After all, why else would the thought of her pining for another man upset him? She smirked; the look adorning her face was one he had seen often. It was usually work related: she wore it when she knew she was on to something.

"No, not Superman."

"Who, then?" He stood to take his cup to the kitchen. Following, she took a deep breath and prepared to plunge into this. Her heart beat faster, her palms began to sweat, and she grew warm all over. "You, Clark," she said after clearing her throat softly.

He stopped where he was, his cup halfway in the sink. His eyes sought hers and held their gaze - searching, probing, for confirmation. "Lois…"

She pulled up close to him then, arching her back in order to meet his gaze. The cup touched in the bottom of the sink and made a hollow, metallic clank. His hands, free now, enveloped her back instinctually. He was confident, but still could not anticipate the words she was about to say.

"I think I'm falling in love with you, Clark."

He was still a moment, gazing into her deep eyes, before a small smile spread across his lips. He bent down low to her, his lips hovering a hair's breadth from her own. "I love you, Lois. I've loved you since that first time on the roof."

"On the… roof?" she questioned, her breathing labored as she prepared for his kiss.

"Lois, I never told you, but I'm Superman."


	4. Epilogue

To Love a Dichotomous Man

Epilogue

Lois hadn't spoken to Clark in over two weeks. He had lied to her, even if only by omission. He had been her friend, and more recently more, but he had never trusted her enough to confide his secret. His lack of faith in her cut Lois deeply. So she had left. She took Jason and moved out of the apartment she had been living in for so long and rented a room.

She was loath to admit that she actually missed his company. Those months spent in his company had been peaceful, harmonious, and even fun. Lois had come to imagine things would always be that way and she hated herself for that stubborn pride that made her lash out at him. "_You're Superman?" _she could hear herself say, her voice rising. "_You should have told me! I can't believe you didn't trust me!" _Wincing at the harsh tone that had been in her voice, she shook her head to rid herself of the memory.

She had left in a rush, leaving many things behind, though nothing she needed desperately enough that she would dare go back there. Sighing, she pushed the notebook computer to the bed and sat forward, putting her head in her hands. Her fingers wrapped around her hair as a sort of exasperated sob escaped her lips before she could contain it. She was conflicted. Just as she had admitted her feelings for Clark he had gone and repelled her, leaving her with an emptiness. Did he feel the same way about her? She was almost certain he did – anyone could notice the way he looked at her. She had been a fool not to notice it sooner.

There was a knock at the door. She did not look up, didn't move. It had come from the glass door to the balcony and her room was on the fourth floor. She knew who was knocking. Still, he persisted.

Wishing she had straightened up her disheveled hair or bothered to change out of her pajamas, Lois stood with irritation and slid open the balcony door. She stepped aside and allowed the man in blue and red to enter. "Where's Jason?" he asked.

"Richard took him to a movie," she answered without looking up. He carried a simple bag with him, offering it to her after she closed the door behind him. She looked at it and to him without taking it. "What's that?" she asked.

"Just a few of your things," he replied, accenting his original offer, his body-language insisting she take it. "You left them at my apartment."

She accepted them reluctantly and placed them on the chair behind her. When she turned around again, Superman was far too close for comfort. Forced to meet the 'S' on his chest, she tried to back up, but found her legs touching the chair. "Superman," she whispered, out of breath. She took hold of her anger the second it flared, shielding herself from him with it. "I don't even know what to call you!" she pointed out, virtually attacking him for his dishonesty.

"Lois, I'm sorry," he told her for the tenth time since his confession two weeks ago. The sincerity in his voice struck home and, to her displeasure, rendered her silent. His hands found their way to her hips and rested there, warming her more than she would have thought likely. Her hands raised to his forearms to stop him, but ended up merely resting there as she met his blue eyes. Her tone was somber, hurt.

"You can't just expect me to accept your apologies. You lied to me. You didn't trust me."

"Of course I trust you." His brows furrowed as he looked at her and she tried to stave off herself, but she was already forgiving him. "I just don't want to see you hurt. Telling you who I am puts you in danger. It puts Jason in danger. I don't want that. But I can't live a life with you if you don't know the truth."

"Live a..." Her tone was soft, breathy, and questioning.

"Lois, I want to live with you forever. I want to live with my son. My family."

He stooped to kiss her and she was so flustered she did not stop him. His lips covered hers, warm and slick. Lust stabbed within her and she lost her balance, not wanting to fight back. For once, the stubborn fire within her was calm. He did not stabilize her, but let her fall to the bed though it broke their kiss. He lowered himself to her, listening to the change in her breathing, in her heart rate.

"Lois," he whispered, his lips inches from hers.

She smiled back at him and unfastened his cape. "Take of that costume of yours, Clark."

* * *

Author's Note: This is the end of this story. I hope you like it. Sorry it took so long! Give me your comments and criticisms – what have you.

However, I seriously doubt I will be writing more of this story. I think to continue it would be to beat a dead horse. It needs to end here. :D Thanks for reading!


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